


Vertically Challenged

by Ascendant_Angel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ascendant_Angel/pseuds/Ascendant_Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times John Watson felt too short and the one time he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The stairs incident

It had started on the stairs and John had rather hoped it would end there too; of course he was to have no such luck. Really it had never been a issue before and he's not sure why it is now, but ever since that first incident... well it’s like Sherlock is deliberately taunting him about it, maybe he is, John thinks.

The first occurrence, which John now thinks of as 'the stairs incident', seemed innocent enough - a bit rude perhaps, but that's just Sherlock nature. They'd been going up the stairs when John heard Sherlock's voice behind him...

“Interesting.” 

“What?” asked John, 

“It's just at your level of incline we are now head to head although I am a full two steps bellow you.” 

“Are you saying I’m short?” demanded John in a voice somewhere between amused and irritated. 

“Essentially, yes. Well I suppose it's more that I’m tall as you aren’t particularly short for a male; it's just I'd never realised just how pronounced the hight difference between us was.”

“You didn't notice?” asked John in shock.

"Of course I noticed you were shorter than me, John. I notice everything remember?" said Sherlock giving John his best 'are you really that slow look?' but I’d never really given much thought into _just_ how much shorter than me you are.”

“So why the sudden interest now, Sherlock”

“Well, from this particular hight I can see what looks like a bald patch forming on the back of your head. You should watch out for that John, did any of your family suffer from early male pattern baldness?” Sherlock answered oh so casually. 

“WHAT?” Shrieked John.

Sherlock just chucked.“Relax John, it was just a joke.”

John gave him a look that he hoped adequately expressed just how funny he found this. 

 

And that was the end of the first incident. If only John had known it wouldn't be the only one it's just possible he might have handled following events significantly better; having been marginally more prepared.


	2. Kitchen steps

The second incident was in the kitchen; John swears Sherlock did it on purpose, Sherlock swears he didn't.   
“ Why would I deliberately put the tea bags on the top self John? That sounds like far too much effort to go to, for very little gain, It's marginally amusing at best to watch you struggle.” 

“Then why don't you come over here and get them for me instead of watching me struggle!” 

“Oh I said it was marginally amusing, not that it wasn't amusing at all. Anyway, I can't possibly leave this experiment at such a critical time.”

“What experiment? You don't appear to be experimenting on anything for once!”

“Just because you don't see it John, doesn’t make it any less real or important” 

“So what is it then? This experiment of yours? That's so important.”

“You wouldn't understand, it's far to complex- and do be careful on that chair John, you'll be no be help to me injured.” 

“Sherlock! While I know I can never compete on your level intellectually, I am a Doctor, I'm not exactly stupid, and if you'd just get over here and help me get the dam tea, I wouldn't have to stand on this ridiculous, wobbly chair to reach it.”

“It's hardly my fault your not tall enough to reach it yourself, John. Perhaps I should buy you a set of kitchen steps which seem so popular among little old laddies.”

“I hate you!” Declared John, who had now thankfully procured his tea without harm.


	3. The Crime Scene

The third incident John was convinced could not be blamed on Sherlock; even Sherlock, wouldn't tamper with murder weapon at crime scene just to wind him up. 

John couldn't believe he been the first to spot it in a room full of Scotland yards finest, _and_ the worlds only consulting detective. In hindsight may have been his first clue.

They'd be combing a crime scene for the missing murder weapon, which looked to be some sort of knife from the wounds, when John caught something glistening in the corner of his eye. He turned in that general direction as was just ready to dismiss it altogether when he saw it again. There was defiantly something shiny and reflective on top of that wardrobe in the far corner. John couldn't tell if it was knife shaped or not, but knives were rather shiny and reflective so chances were good.

John pulled on some gloves, found an evidence bag, and wandered over to the wardrobe. He still couldn't see the object, very well because it was too far back, but it did look like a knife - maybe the killer had tossed it up there in the hope that no-one would find it. 

He opened his mouth to call Lestrade over, but he and Donovon seemed engrossed in something so he thought he might as well show his worth and retrieve the item himself. He groped in the direction of the knifes handle, praying he wouldn't slice his hand, and compromise evidence with his own blood. Even standing on tip toes he couldn't quite reach... that really should have served as his second clue. 

John scanned the room for something on which he could stand to retrieve the knife there was nothing to hand. At least the others were still to occupied to notice. He scanned the room again hoping a chair would suddenly pop into existence, or even a set of those dam kitchen steps which Sherlock had indeed brought him after the kitchen incident. John suspected they were the first, and only, item of household goods which Sherlock would purchase himself. 

Still nothing presented itself. He really was going to have to ask for help on this one, still if it got them the murder weapon...

“Sherlock!” He called. “I think I’ve found something, give me a hand getting in down will you?”

When Sherlock complied without complaint that should have been John's third clue, but hindsight is a wonderful thing. With an infuriating lack of difficulty Sherlock reached up and pulled down the object.

John had perhaps not expected and pride or recognition for his efforts, but he certainly didn't expect what came next. 

“Well done, John, you found a toy sword. I don't think it's our murder weapon though, do you? A bit blunt. I suppose I should praise your efforts though, Anderson, over here, didn't notice a thing.” 

John found himself fixed by one of Sherlock looks that were usually reserved for the likes of Anderson, and the lowest criminals, and wished the floor boards would open up and swallow him. Again, he had no such luck.


	4. High heel hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John get a new girl friend, a very tall new girl friend with a love for high heels.

John had never considered himself a short man, at least not before the stairs incident, he was he reasoned, a perfectly normal hight for a male, he was not short. In no way could anyone describe John Watson as short. This knowledge however did little to stave off the fact that, that was exactly how he was starting to feel. 

Bethany was not helping with this. John was very much starting to feel like that little boy in the old yellow pages advert, the one where he had to stand on a yellow pages to kiss the girl under the mistletoe. John quickly scanned the room for a copy of the yellow pages, there wasn't one, which he guessed was really for the best, little boys standing on yellow pages to kiss girls may well be cute, but he very much doubted that translated to grown men. If only he could get her to take off those ridiculously tall heels, she really didn't need them at 5 foot 11. 

No John was not short, it was just that he had a ridiculously tall house mate and girlfriend, he was perfectly averagely sized, not short at all. Wikipedia agreed with him, as did his medical text books from uni, he cheeked, twice. He, John Watson, was not short. He tried desperately to hold on to this fact as he rubbed the crook in his neck he'd developed reaching up to kiss Bethany after she'd proven inseparable from her skyscraper heels. 

There was no doubt about it John mused, Bethany would have to go, for the sake of his own sanity, no girl was worth this kind of suffering. He was not short dam it! And why did anyone even make heels that ridiculously tall? Walking in them must be an art form, and did young women not know how much damage they did to their feet? 

On reflection telling Bethany that last part was unlikely to get him a further date anyway, so really the whole issue was a moot point. It was true that women liked doctors, they did not however like to be doctored, the way Bethany stormed off kind of proved that. 

As John and his wounded ego walked home he wondered how he could pin this one on Sherlock, it had to be his fault somehow, come to think of it, it was kind of odd that Sherlock had not once sulked or tried to interrupt a date with her yet, maybe he knew this would happen. Maybe the bastard had somehow managed to engineer John meeting her in the first place; John didn't see how but with Sherlock anything was possible.

Of course it was equally possible that this was all in his head, after all why, would Sherlock do any of this? He must be going mad, this must be what madness feels like, after months of living with Sherlock he must have finally fallen over the deep end, and completely lost it. It's not like Sally hadn't warned him that Sherlock was bad for him, OK he doubted she'd meant this way, but he had been warned, maybe it actually was his fault and he'd brought this upon himself, by moving in with Sherlock.


	5. The Roof Top Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take more sinister turn.

The fifth incident was by the far the worst of them, whilst the other incidents had embarrassed and humiliated him, they had not affected anyone else, a little embarrassment was something he could deal with, but what happened on the fifth incident was something different all together and something he hoped never to experience again. At least it proved that his mad flatmate was not in anyway behind the incidents.

It had started off like every other day for John Watson, chasing a criminal across the city's roof tops with Sherlock. OK may not every other day, but it was far from an unusual occurrence for John. Of course this time they ended up on the wrong roof the killer right across the street from them, and shooting at Sherlock. At least that's where the bullets were coming from, John could not actually see as the roof opposite was some what higher, and just out of Johns vision. The bullets were coming far to close to comfort for John's liking

“John do something!” Sherlock yelled “that last one almost clipped me, I thought you were supposed to be a crack shot?”

“ I am, but you try shooting at someone you can't see!”

“What do you mean, can't see? Are you blind? He's right there!” John immediately fired in the direction Sherlock pointed.

“You realise I can't actually see there? And no I’m not blind, but I can't actually see above my head!”

“Above your head? What are you talking about? Oh, I see, given your stature I guess your field of vision would not extend to that point, give me the gun” 

“What no! I'm not giving you my gun. Your not safe with a gun, remember the pool? You nearly saved Moiarty the job of killing you”

“If you don't give me the gun, this common criminal will do the job instead! I swear that last one actually grazed me!”

“I don't think so Sherlock” 

“What do you mean you don't think so. You weren’t even looking!”

“No I mean I don't think he's going to kill you, did your genius brain not register that he's not shooting any more?”

“ This is all your fault John I've told you again, and again, food impairs my functioning, but still you insisted I eat, and now look you've lowered my IQ to that of Anderson”

“No, I'm pretty sure Anderson would have noticed that we're not being fired on any more, but I think the more import point is the killer is getting away, Sherlock why aren’t you giving chase?”

“John, I appear to be bleeding, quite profusely, I may be in need of medical attention” It wasn't so much Sherlock's words as serious as they were, or even his phased and distant tone that panicked John it was the fact that Sherlock seemed to have no intention of giving chase, and John had seen Sherlock run half a mile with a knife in his leg, this had to be serious, and this had all happened because John was a few inches to short. 

As it turned out Sherlock had been right. A bullet had grazed him, not an actual hit per say but it had grazed the side of his skull, and head wounds were known to bleed quite profusely even if the injury was relatively minor. For all his deductive powers though Sherlock didn't seem to know this, and the fact that it was his head where that powerful brain of his was stored, that really freaked him out. It had long been clear that Sherlock favoured his mind above his body which he had once referred to as 'transport'. 

Considering Sherlock survived the incident relatively unscathed, it really shouldn't have bothered John as much as it did, but the cumulation of events was starting to get to him. John had lived a long time without once worrying about his height, but recently the world seemed to be conspiring against him, determined to render him paranoid and insecure. Perhaps he'd pissed off the world somehow and this was it's fucked up revenge plan. John reminded him self once more that he was of an perfectly average height, then checked the wikipedia page once more for safety, he John Watson was NOT short. He still found himself looking at a pair or men’s heels though.


	6. An Experiment gone awry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the plus one when in John learns to love his shorter stature, but not as much as Sherlock.

Just after John had hit the buy button for a pair of men's heeled boots off Amazon there was an incident that rather changed his opinion on his stature, the events were as follows: Sherlock was experimenting in the kitchen nothing new there and from the sound of it John could tell things were not proceeding in the manner the consulting detective had expected, in fact he was beginning to sound rather anxious which John felt did not bode well for either him or the kitchen. 

John had just made his way to Sherlock to see precisely what he should be berating his friend for this time when whatever it was Sherlock had been working on decided to explode in a rather spectacular way. Without much conscious thought John threw himself forward the few inches it took to protect his friend from the force of the full force of the blast. Debris of what was just a few seconds earlier their kitchen table and it contents found itself air born and rather rapidly re-homing itself in the walls and floor around them.

John was just despairing for their security deposit when he felt a white hot pain flair though his left shoulder and then rapidly engulf the rest of his body. For a moment he thought he was back in Afghanistan being shot but when his mind cleared he realised that a large shard of what a one point may have been conical flask or maybe their window was now embedded in his shoulder, his bad shoulder, well talk about exacerbating an old wound John thought still he doubted the glass could cause worse injury than the bullet already had but the physio was going to be a bitch an unavoidable if he wished to maintain use of that joint. Still right now physio was looking like a walk in park compared to his current agony. 

John gingerly reached behind him attempting to work out just what had found residence in his shoulder this turned out to be a very bad move as the pain intensified tenfold and he almost blacked out, when he came back to himself he realised Sherlock was deathly pale and unmoving alarm spiked though him, Sherlock! Had he been injured too? How could he have neglected him? His shoulder would recover what if Sherlock had sustained a more deadly injury? Automatically he began to pat the man down with his good arm “Sherlock! Sherlock! Are you okay? Did you get hit, tell me where it hurts?” The voice that answered him was badly shaken ratcheting up Johns concern  
“John” “John your injured” Sherlock stuttered. “Never mind me, for Christ’s sake are you okay?”   
Sherlock just blinked for a second before he seemed to recover himself “ I am uninjured” he relied in a somewhat more normal tone of voice followed by a barely heard whisper of “You saved me” just as John was about to either faint from the pain or deny any such thing, he realy wasn't sure Sherlock continued some what more audible this time “Had you not covered me that shard may well have pierced my myocardial sack” It took a second for Johns pain addled brain to work that one out, his heart! Due to the not inconsiderable hight difference Johns shoulder was about level with the man's heart had that jagged shard not had it's path halted by John's presence it's trajectory would have continued until it buried itself in Sherlock's chest right about level with his heart. Gratitude that this had not been the end of his friend briefly warred with the pain before all consciousness fled him , leaving a still rattled Sherlock to lower him to the ground safely and call an ambulance. 

The next time John opened his eyes he found himself staring directly into Sherlock’s icy orbs hovering just inches away from his, it was rather unnerving but he had to admit the warm hand encapsulating his was not entirely unappreciated . The lecture the followed however very much was unappreciated.

“John, you ridiculous man what where you thinking you could have got yourself killed! I told you before I'd be lost without my blogger, and though I’m loath to admit it, you have saved my life several times already in our acquaintance I fear I would not fair so well without you. Endangering yourself in this manner is simply inexcusable. I need you” The last words were a plea John wasn't entirely sure he heard before sleep once again claimed him. 

When John awoke the next time he felt a rather pleasant warmth engulfing him, when his brain came fully back online he realised with mounting horror it was the worlds only consulting detective laying beside him, clearly a sleep and holding him tight. People will talk he thought and let out a small laugh this served to rouse his unexpected sleeping partner. “No laughing” Sherlock demanded well John assumes it was a demand but since Sherlock brain was still half asleep he actually fell several meters short of it. He learnt forward and placed an affectionate kiss on Sherlock's forehead before the man became alert enough to register and object to the sentimentality. Although speaking of sentimentality he wondered what Sherlock excuse was, no doubt he'd try to make out that he was only in Johns bed because the hospital staff had foolishly failed to provide him another blanket so Sherlock had to offer himself up as a human shaped hot water bottle to prevent Johns demise from hypothermia. 

“No laughing”, Sherlock mumbled again still mostly asleep “you nearly died , no laughing” Okay John replied holding back a chuckle “no more laughing”. Honestly it took forever for that magnificent brain to reignite after waking. “John, I'm glad your short” the detective mumbled this time John could not hold back the chuckle at the unexpected statement Sherlock attempted to look cross presumably at Johns inability to follow a simple instruction like don't laugh. Again the sleep lidded eyes kind of ruined it. “Why?” John asked momentary distracted from kicking the detective out of his bed. “Because had you been as tall as me that piece of glass would have pierced your heart rather than your shoulder, and left me without you. Unacceptable I have grown far to accustomed to you, to lose you now. Besides your short stature makes me look taller and more imposing, good for interrogations. I have taken the liberty of cancelling your order for heeled boots.”

John found he didn't care much over a few extra inches any more after that. He found he was quite happy being short after all. And after that comment John just didn't have the heart to kick the consulting detective out of his bed, let people talk he thought, before once again falling asleep.


End file.
